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Chapter 43

Adam was almost halfway down the corridor when he heard a noise. He darted behind a cupboard and pressed his back against it, listening carefully to the sound.

He might have said it resembled footsteps, if the thing in question had more than two feet. It was all he could hear, and he could hear them coming towards him. It was the only thing breaking the silence. Suddenly he felt very alone.

As they came closer, he realised with a sinking feeling that he didn't have any choice other than to face it and hope he could fool whatever was coming. He nervously adjusted his glasses, hoping they wouldn't slip. So much as one glance would give him away.

He stood up and started to walk away from the sound, trying to act as if he couldn't hear it. His chest was tight, and he took a few silent breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating.

He could see a cross-roads a few feet away. He wasn't far now. If he could reach it, he could get away without whatever was following him seeing.

The footsteps stopped behind him, and a cold hand tapped him on the shoulder. It felt damp. Adam swallowed, and for an irrational moment he was worried the thing could hear his heart beating.

He attempted a relaxed smile, turned around to face it, and then felt sick.

It looked as if it might have been human once, but the skin on its face was rotting and bloody and almost grey. Its hair was tangled and red, clumped up with dirt and grime. Its eyes were, obviously, pitch black. But worst of all was his body. Its arms lay by its side, but the palms of it's hands faced outwards. Its feet were at an unnatural angle, so it stood precariously on his ankles.

"Fifty-four..." It said slowly, a strange expression crossing what was left of it's face. "Didn't know you were back here yet."

Adam swallowed and mentally shook himself. He had to stay calm. Lowering his voice, he said, "Well, you know, I just... I just love being here. It's such a fun... Working environment."

"'Suppose so," it replied, giving him a funny look. "Not that what you do can be called 'work.'" He looked down at his hands, and Adam realised that his skin was stretched so tightly that it was almost transparent.

The boy squinted at him. "What's with the glasses?"

"Well, I actually use them to see better," he said as slowly as possible, careful not to fumble his words.

It was getting harder and harder not to panic. He could see the bone.

"You know, they say that this is one of the only corridors without any cameras."

Adam adjusted his glasses and quickened his pace slightly. "Interesting, but, you know, I have places to be, so..."

The boy cut him off and blocked his path. "Did you really think that I'd just forget about what you did?"

Adam looked away, not trusting himself to stay neutral, before replying, "I'm not sure what you mean..."

The boy laughed bitterly. "You honestly don't remember?"

Adam dared to look back, and saw a number carved on to the back of his hand. It read 'one, four, two.'

He suddenly recognised his face beneath the scars. It was the same face he'd kept seeing, until it drove him to force himself to stay awake. It had once been almost human.

Until he'd killed him.

The boy took a step towards him and Adam could easily name every muscle moving beneath what was left of his skin. He'd look the same if he didn't get out as soon as possible. "Oh, okay... I-I'm sorry," he said quickly.